deep voice around the echoing display areas, and Iâwell, I decided that, now I was in, Iâd try to find out exactly what had happened.
I wandered up to a young man wearing a short, suede jacket, jeans, and cowboy boots. I introduced myself in a way that I hoped would encourage him to accept me.
âHi! Beni and I just got here. Whatâs happened?â
He couldnât wait to tell me. He spoke hurriedly and quietly, and the gist of it was that the break-in had been discovered just before lunch, but that it likely took place the night before. It was clear that the place had been abuzz with discussions about what had happened, and how it might have happened. The agreed theory among museum staff was that the theft must have taken place at night, otherwise the point of entry would have been clearly visible from the car park, which was used all day from about eight in the morning onward. The break-in hadnât been discovered until late morning because it affected only the office area of the museum, rather than any of the display areas and, because it was Saturday, no one had been using the offices, until one of the researchers had arrived to take advantage of some âquiet timeâ to work on some artifacts. The other fact I gleaned from the young man was that the thief had, somehow, managed to pick the one window in the whole museum that wasnât hooked up to the alarm system. When I asked why it wasnât connected, he answered matter-of-factly that the window had just been replaced the day before, but that the window fitter had been delayed because he had arrived without one of the parts he needed for the installation. Oh good , I thought, so that happens all over the world then! The window hadnât been fitted in time for the alarm company workman to hook up the new window.
âThe alarm company guy just left the window un-alarmed?â I found it hard to believe.
âYes. He had finished his hours. For work. It was the weekend. Besides, it was a very small window that only gave access to a little corridor that leads to the offices. All the doors to the display areas are alarmed, so the thief could only take what we might have left at our desks,â replied the young man casually. It all seemed quite natural to him. I mean, I know that the French have a really short work-week, but this whole thing was screaming âlaw suitâ to me. Maybe the French just arenât as litigious as we North Americans, though.
âI will sue you!â Beni screamed in French at the end of the room. He stood about half an inch from the nose of a short, fat man in a badly cut suit, who I suspected might represent the alarm company. âThis is all your fault. You are to blame. Why did you not instruct your workman to fit the alarm? Why not send someone else to do it if he could not?â I was quite impressed with how my French translation abilities were coming along.
âIt was the window fitter at fault,â replied the rotund little man. He, too, was angry, but his anger smacked of desperation. Oh dear. Poor thing. And poor Beni. He looked very flushed, and in fact I was surprised his feet werenât beginning to leave the floor, given the way he was flapping his arms about.
âYou will wait. I will deal with you later. Now I must find out what has been taken.â Beni motored toward a door at the far end of the display hall. I thanked the young man whoâd been so informative and rushed after Beni. I wanted to know if the archive had been stolenâthat was my only interest. I knew I had to stick close to be sure I could see what had happened.
As we left the large open area filled with display cabinets and artifacts, we walked through a small door into a long, dark corridor. Ahead of us was a tiny window, set about five feet high in the end wall of the building. It couldnât have been more than eighteen inches square. The broken glass that had fallen to the floor in
I wandered up to a young man wearing a short, suede jacket, jeans, and cowboy boots. I introduced myself in a way that I hoped would encourage him to accept me.
âHi! Beni and I just got here. Whatâs happened?â
He couldnât wait to tell me. He spoke hurriedly and quietly, and the gist of it was that the break-in had been discovered just before lunch, but that it likely took place the night before. It was clear that the place had been abuzz with discussions about what had happened, and how it might have happened. The agreed theory among museum staff was that the theft must have taken place at night, otherwise the point of entry would have been clearly visible from the car park, which was used all day from about eight in the morning onward. The break-in hadnât been discovered until late morning because it affected only the office area of the museum, rather than any of the display areas and, because it was Saturday, no one had been using the offices, until one of the researchers had arrived to take advantage of some âquiet timeâ to work on some artifacts. The other fact I gleaned from the young man was that the thief had, somehow, managed to pick the one window in the whole museum that wasnât hooked up to the alarm system. When I asked why it wasnât connected, he answered matter-of-factly that the window had just been replaced the day before, but that the window fitter had been delayed because he had arrived without one of the parts he needed for the installation. Oh good , I thought, so that happens all over the world then! The window hadnât been fitted in time for the alarm company workman to hook up the new window.
âThe alarm company guy just left the window un-alarmed?â I found it hard to believe.
âYes. He had finished his hours. For work. It was the weekend. Besides, it was a very small window that only gave access to a little corridor that leads to the offices. All the doors to the display areas are alarmed, so the thief could only take what we might have left at our desks,â replied the young man casually. It all seemed quite natural to him. I mean, I know that the French have a really short work-week, but this whole thing was screaming âlaw suitâ to me. Maybe the French just arenât as litigious as we North Americans, though.
âI will sue you!â Beni screamed in French at the end of the room. He stood about half an inch from the nose of a short, fat man in a badly cut suit, who I suspected might represent the alarm company. âThis is all your fault. You are to blame. Why did you not instruct your workman to fit the alarm? Why not send someone else to do it if he could not?â I was quite impressed with how my French translation abilities were coming along.
âIt was the window fitter at fault,â replied the rotund little man. He, too, was angry, but his anger smacked of desperation. Oh dear. Poor thing. And poor Beni. He looked very flushed, and in fact I was surprised his feet werenât beginning to leave the floor, given the way he was flapping his arms about.
âYou will wait. I will deal with you later. Now I must find out what has been taken.â Beni motored toward a door at the far end of the display hall. I thanked the young man whoâd been so informative and rushed after Beni. I wanted to know if the archive had been stolenâthat was my only interest. I knew I had to stick close to be sure I could see what had happened.
As we left the large open area filled with display cabinets and artifacts, we walked through a small door into a long, dark corridor. Ahead of us was a tiny window, set about five feet high in the end wall of the building. It couldnât have been more than eighteen inches square. The broken glass that had fallen to the floor in
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